Gloomy Sunday
by Lix
Summary: Draco/ Harry slash. Draco contemplates suicide... angst leading to fluffiness, I just can't make Draco sad forever


TITLE: Gloomy Sunday 

AUTHOR: Lix 

RATING: R 

WARNINGS: Slash. Initial angst leading to overly fluffy situations- I just can't bear to make Draco unhappy. Shameless use of someone else's song to inspire a badly written story with someone else's characters 

PAIRING: Draco/ Harry 

DISCLAIMER: Draco and Harry and most other characters aren't mine, except Seamus cos he's my favourite so I've claimed him, and if that upsets JK, well, I'm sorry but it's her fault for creating Seamus in the first place, and also for not making the most of him in her books, he should have more scenes. But Seamus is mine now and he sleeps in my bed at night and we're very happy together so there. Oh and don't sue. 

SUMMARY: A songfic based on the beautiful 'Gloomy Sunday' by Billie Holiday, which I don't own or get any profits from, but buy it or at least download it form Morpheus anyway because it's a great song. Draco ponders suicide after the Final Battle. 

_Sunday is gloomy, _

_My hours are slumberless. _

_Dearest, the shadows _

_I live with are numberless _

_Little white flowers _

_Will never awake anew _

_Not where the black coach of _

_Sorrow has taken you. _

_Angels have no thoughts _

_Of ever returning you _

_Would they be angry _

_If I thought of joining you? _

_Gloomy Sunday _

I run my fingers over the edge of the blade in my hand. It is cold and heavy, it has not yet heated up to the temperature of my skin. It truly is a beautiful blade. It took a lot of effort to find this one, with emeralds in the hilt that are the exact same green as _his _eyes were. Not anymore, his eyes no longer shine this spectacular emerald green that can stand out in a room full of people, that would stand out even were he surrounded by every soul on the planet. His eyes are closed now, he lies somewhere below the ground and his eyes are closed. I'll never see that green again. 

Harry died fighting Voldemort at the end of our Seventh Year. No- one thought it would happen, we thought he would defeat the Dark Lord as we always knew he would, and then everything would be wonderful and we would get on with our lives. Harry and I would get on with our lives. Such childlike naïveté. We didn't understand death. We had never learnt that good doesn't always win. Oh, Harry did defeat Voldemort, but he gave his life to do it. He died and left us all weeping for our loss. Me most of all. The Death Eaters son who now finds he can't bear the thought of life without the Boy Who Lived by his side. 

I never believed in love before Harry. Why would I? I'd never seen it in my life. There was some kind of parental love, but my mother and father were so distant, it never seemed like the real, unconditional love children are supposed to receive from those who conceived them. I would look at the world and think that no-one out there could honestly be in love, surely it was all merely chemicals. If love were real, I would tell myself, and you lost someone you loved, you would never be able to come to terms with losing them, you would never be able to replace them. And yet, I would see half of a married couple die, and their other half would carry on, get on with their life. My attitude to love was like the wizarding attitude to religion. The whole concept seemed so surreal and totally unbelievable, it came across as insane and ridiculous that some people would actually waste their whole lives dedicating themselves to it and their belief in it. When it came down to it, as far as I could see, 'love' was merely a chemical reaction in the body, a way by which our bodies could ensure the survival of the species by making us care about someone enough to want to reproduce with them. 'Love' was a word created to make preservation of the human race a more romantic concept. 

And then I met Harry. Okay, so maybe my chemicals were a little fucked up and unable to understand that survival of the species could not be ensured through two males. Well, I always knew my hormones were screwed. But now, here I am, facing life without him, and I can't even bear the idea. I honestly do love him- too much to even force myself to live alone, without him by my side. He's never coming back, so how can it be wrong for me to take things in my own hands and go to him instead? Would they be angry at me in the afterlife if I told them that I had to kill myself because a life without Harry isn't any life at all? 

_Gloomy is Sunday, _

_With shadows I spend it all. _

_My heart and I _

_Have decided to end it all. _

_Soon there'll be candles _

_And prayers that are sad, I know, _

_But let them not weep, _

_Let them know that I'm glad to go. _

_Death is no dream _

_For in death I'm caressin' you _

_With the last breath of my soul _

_I'll be blessin' you. _

_Gloomy Sunday _

The ache in my heart, in my soul, is tangible. It's a real, actual object sitting inside me, making me bleed internally with every breath I take without him by my side. It is at it's worst in the mornings, when I wake up in an empty bed. Every morning I have rolled over to try and find that source of warmth that has laid next to me every night for so long, only to find that the bed is cold. For a moment, I always listen for the shower, thinking he must have already got up and be getting ready for the day. And then it hits me, pain as real as if it were a ton of bricks coming down on my head, that he's never going to be there by my side again, never going to be in the shower again. 

In a way, the pain is a most delicious agony. To know that I have loved so passionately and now must live without that love. To know that I am one of the few people who experience the heart- breaking pain of waking in the morning knowing that there was a person I adored, worshipped, lived for, and he is no more, I'll never see him again, it's all completely over... Living a lifetime without someone I need, need as desperately as I need the air... So heartbreaking and tragic and desperate and barren and heart- rending and catastrophic. Few people get to experience this agony. So in a way, maybe it is as good hurt, to know I at least found real love. 

But still, it doesn't prevent the fact that I can't cope with that pain one more day. That pain is unbearable, and so I'm going to use this pretty dagger, with the emeralds the colour of Harry's eyes, to take me to be with him. And maybe people will look at me and see that true love is real, because here is someone who loved so much he could not live without his lover. Someone for whom death was nothing but a beautiful boat ride to take him to the one from whom he should never have been parted. 

I can't wait to die. At last, I will be able to touch Harry without having to fear waking. Too often, he has come to me in my dreams and I have been so gloriously happy, only to find he fades away into the night and leaves me alone again. If death means that I will never again have to fear that moment when my love disappears from my embrace, then I will welcome it with open arms. 

_Dreaming, I was only dreaming _

_I wake and I find you asleep _

_In the deep of my heart, here. _

_Darling I hope _

_That my dream never haunted you _

_My heart is tellin' you _

_How much I wanted you. _

_Gloomy Sunday _

I sit up with a gasp, waking from my dream with that sudden, electric shock as reality intrudes and fiction is forced to hide once more. I am covered in sweat, panting hard, still feeling the desperation from my dream, the complete and utter loneliness. But my bed is not cold, nor empty. Harry. 

He is beautiful when he sleeps. But it means I can't see his eyes. I move closer to his warmth, his arms wrap around me automatically and pull me tightly to him. 

"Harry." 

His eyes open slowly, and I'm holding my breath until I can clearly see the incredible green glowing down on me. In my dream, I feared I would never see that green again, and the fear was enough to make me want to die. 

"Bad dream?" he asks with a voice made husky with sleep. I nod pathetically and try to worm my way even closer to his body, try to find my way inside his flesh, try to crawl into his heart so I can hide there and never again be hurt. 

Harry smiles at me with all the intense love he holds inside, and kisses my forehead, then my mouth. "I dreamt I had to live without you." I murmur into his collar bone, letting my tongue flicker onto his skin just to make sure he is real. The flesh beneath my tongue is warm and soft and salty- sweet. 

"Never." Harry promises, pulling my mouth to his once more to prove that this is reality, the dream was just that, a fiction my sleeping brain created out of the period spent asleep and therefore not with him. He rolls me onto my back and he is perfect against me, perfect above me, kissing deeply, with all the lust that comes of having to spend a whole four hours apart in different dreamworlds. 

We move together lazily, arousal growing with each gentle thrust against each other's cocks, sweat-slick bodies now proving their authenticity. I can see why I wanted to kill myself in my dream- I could not go five minutes without my Harry beside me, never mind a lifetime without this. Not just the sex, but his love and the simple comfort to be found in his warmth and solid presence. 

We come together, an easy but intense moment of release. His love has pushed away the last dark fringes of the dream and I am content to curl up in his strong arms and fall asleep once more, safe in the knowledge that I have him by my side. 


End file.
